


Somewhere

by bethagain



Series: On From Here [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post-Chapter 16, for everyone else who ships Din with a good night's sleep, genfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:53:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28760604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethagain/pseuds/bethagain
Summary: Somewhere in hyperspace, not long after the end of Chapter 16.Din Djarin istired.Let's let him get some rest.
Relationships: Din Djarin/sleep
Series: On From Here [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129814
Comments: 32
Kudos: 97
Collections: Noromo Mando: Mandalorian Genfics Collection





	Somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a comment from toasty-cowboy on tumblr, who suggested shipping Din and 8 hours of undisturbed sleep. (Btw, if you haven't visited their blog, go check it out for some really great art.)
> 
> Written in the middle of the night, because _I_ was stuck being wide awake. But at least I could let Din get some sleep.
> 
> Edit: Y'all, ya gotta go read calluna-cuprea's Goodnight Mando, inspired by this fic. It's really clever and cozy. (And, then you gotta imagine Din reading it to Grogu once they're together again.)

He picked a system at least 12 hours away and nearly uninhabited, set the nav computer to come out close but not too close to the only planet with a city on it, and promptly forgot the destination. 

He was _tired._

This was just a scout ship, scavenged from the hangar bay of Moff Gideon’s light cruiser. Its two front-mounted guns were a joke, little more than decoration. But it had a hyperdrive, it had fuel, and it had a market value. First chance he got, he’d trade it in for something suitable. 

He was avoiding the question, _Suitable for what?_

He had Fett’s comm code. If he wanted to use it. Bo-Katan had not been pleased when he told her that he had, as promised, considered joining her cause. _No_ was not what she wanted to hear. 

Maybe he’d think more about it later. 

Maybe later he’d be able to think.

He re-checked the nav system. The readouts looked fine. No alarms, no flashing warnings. Just a diagram of the hyperspace route and a set of slowly changing coordinates, counting the way to--wherever it was he’d set the ship to go. 

He rose from the pilot’s seat and left the cockpit. It had become reflex to bend down on the way past the passenger seat, unclick the child’s safety restraint, scoop him up and hear him giggle as they slid fast down the ladder to the hold. But the passenger seats on the scout ship were empty. 

There wasn’t even a ladder. This ship was all one level. Its walls and floor met at right angles, clean and smooth. 

His gloved hand left marks on one of those walls as he used it to keep his balance, to keep from stumbling on the way down the short corridor to the cabin. Inside, two sets of narrow bunk beds took up most of the space. The bare mattresses were encased in flexplast, one end molded to serve as a pillow. They looked clean enough. 

He made use of the refresher in its tiny cubby. On the way out, his left shoulder clanked as it collided with the door frame, beskar pauldron banging into the lesser metal. He really should have stripped out of the armor, checked its integrity, at least wiped the pieces down if he couldn't clean them properly. He really should have cleaned his own body, checked for wounds. 

The thing was, he couldn't decide if, once off, he'd ever put the armor back on. What had it bought him, all these years? The right to chip off bits of his soul with every bounty, and then give the last piece away? 

He gripped the upright post of a bunk bed frame, leaning his weight on it, forehead resting against the cool surface. _I don't really think that. I just need to sleep._

A handle set into the wall caught his eye. He heaved his body upright again and clicked open what turned out to be a shallow cupboard. Inside was a stack of neatly folded blankets, with the faint ozone smell of having been recently cleaned.

He laid one over the nearest flexplast-covered mattress and unfolded another to cover himself. He took an unsteady step back to the door to check for a lock, didn't find one, and reminded himself: _You're alone on this ship. It's fine._

Then he half-sat, half fell onto the bunk, the familiar clank of his armor loud in the silence. He laid his body out in the narrow space, pulled the blanket over. And slept.

The scout ship's life support system hummed quiet and steady. Down the hall, the nav computer did its job, guiding the ship through hyperspace, smoothly avoiding obstacles. The ship's chrono kept time.

Parsecs away, the Jedi carried the child on a forest path, toward a low wooden building where comfortable voices were laughing. Grogu reached out in the Force, looking for the shape of his father. He wasn't very good at this yet, but he found him, found him safe and sleeping. That was good.

The scout ship's computer made a tiny adjustment, shifting the trajectory to stay on the safest route. The hyperdrive engine whined louder for a moment, then subsided back to its steady vibration. 

The chrono ticked away another hour.

Far off, along another hyperspace lane, the former ruler of Mandalore and her first lieutenant continued taking inventory. The light cruiser had a wealth of essentials. Weapons, starfighters, rations. It felt like little without the Darksaber. Without a new plan.

Fans whirred in the scout ship's walls, moving air to keep it fresh. The map coordinates changed steadily as the ship slipped on through hyperspace, pinpointing its location even with no one in the cockpit to watch. 

On board _Slave I_ , Cara, Fennec, and Boba traded war stories. They'd talk later about what happened, about the mission and the child and how long to wait before tracking down their friend. For now, they'd respect his silence and match it with theirs. Not for too long though. A man needed people, even if he also needed space. It wasn't right to be alone.

The scout ship sailed on, computer and engines well maintained and working flawlessly. Moff Gideon's mechanics had known their jobs and done them well. They'd been expendable, anyway.

The ship's chrono counted, two hours, four hours, six, while Din's even breathing added to the steady, quiet sounds.

When he finally began to wake, the chrono marking well past eight hours, the first thing he noticed was the roughness of the blanket against his face. And then, the quiet, and the strangeness of the plain white walls. And then, that he was hungry.

Din sat up, the blanket sliding down from the smooth beskar breastplate. His whole body felt sore, battered, but he could remember now that he was alive.

He needed a shower. He needed to care for his armor, check the electronics in the helmet after the beating it had taken. He needed to eat. 

Food first, he decided, swinging his feet to the floor and, still a little bleary-eyed, using the pole of the bedframe to help pull himself up to stand. There were ration bars in the ship's narrow galley, and potable water. He'd at least had the presence of mind to check that before sealing the hatch and lifting off.

Food first, then get the rest of his body in order. 

And then, figure out where he'd told the ship to take him. And decide what happens next.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Goodnight Mando](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28766811) by [calluna_cuprea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calluna_cuprea/pseuds/calluna_cuprea)




End file.
